


Caught In Between

by coricomile, likeasugarcube



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Intercrural Sex, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-16
Updated: 2011-09-16
Packaged: 2017-10-23 19:03:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/253833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coricomile/pseuds/coricomile, https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeasugarcube/pseuds/likeasugarcube
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So this one time Patrick drummed for Arma Angelus. And then this happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caught In Between

Pete wanders in by accident. He isn't looking for them or anything, he hadn't actually even noticed they were gone. He's just, you know, a little bored of the same stupid stories over and over and wanted to stretch his legs for a few minutes. The door is open a few inches and Pete pushes at it and walks in.

The lights might be off, but the curtains are open and there is enough light coming in to make out Patrick in Joe's lap and they are definitely not talking. He stands there and watches, decides to wait until they notice him before he says anything. It takes a lot longer than he expected it would before Joe looks over Patrick's shoulder and says, "Oh, hey Pete."

Joe is used to seeing Pete making out with people and being caught making out with people by Pete (not that he makes out with that many people; Pete just has some freaky radar that lets him _know_ ) but Patrick isn't, and he's still got this look that he gets on his face -- kind of like the one he's wearing now -- that reminds Joe that Pete's kind of a Big Deal.

And Joe's kind of pissed because he's so close to getting a hand into Patrick's pants that he can feel the heat of his hard on. But, like predicted, Patrick topples backwards, bouncing onto the bed and off Joe's lap.

Joe is not amused.

Okay, actually he is. But still, he's feeling kind of bereft and cold and horny.

"You didn't have to stop," Pete says. The shade of pink Patrick turns is kind of hot.

Patrick's scooting back on the bed -- further and further away from Joe and that shit is just not cool.

"It - it's not, I mean. We weren't -- " he stammers.

Pete laughs and takes a couple steps towards the bed.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure you were," he says with a smirk.

Joe leans over and tugs at Patrick's t-shirt.

"Come back here," he says. "Pete doesn't give a fuck. He's made out with more guys than both of us put together."

Patrick resists for a moment before he lets himself be pulled back into Joe's lap. Joe wraps his arms around Patrick's waist, leans in and licks at the hollow of his throat. Pete sits down on the edge of the bed, leaning in towards them a little.

Patrick is kind of hyper aware of Pete's eyes on him and Joe and it freaks him out. Three months ago, Pete was a musician on the stage, making music and totally above Patrick's station, an now he's reaching out and placing one hot, big hand on the small of Patrick's back like it belongs there, like it isn't the weirdest thing to have ever happened to Patrick ever.

He's never had stage-fright, but this anxiety of performing well is suddenly crushing. His hands are probably too tight on Joe's shoulders, fingers digging in and eyes squinched shut. Pete's being totally still, which is nearly as unnerving as the thought of him moving.

Joe bites his lip and Patrick makes what is possibly the most embarrassing sound ever. He feels Joe grin against his mouth, feels Pete's fingers twitch against his skin, and wow. This is weird.

Joe's hips are rocking up against him and yeah, Patrick can totally feel his hard-on the same way he's sure Joe can feel his.

"Just pretend he's not there," Joe mumbles against his mouth.

And then his tongue is sliding against Patrick's again and it's hard to think of anything else. He's forgotten all about Pete until he moves his hand again. His fingers sneak up, underneath Patrick's t-shirt and draw circles on his back. Patrick's breath hitches and then Pete starts talking again.

"So are you gonna share, Trohman? Or do I just have to sit here and watch?"

Joe kisses him again, sucks on his bottom lip as he leans back.

"That's Patrick's call."

Patrick is not the kind of boy who makes out with two boys in one night, let alone two boys at the same time. He's the kind of boy that sits at home on Friday nights and jerks off to questionable quality twink porn. He is not ready for this level.

"I can just watch, if you want," Pete says, hot breath on Patrick's ear and hand splayed wide open on the small of Patrick's back, pinky sliding down into his boxers.

Patrick nearly breaks his neck whipping his head around to kiss him.

Joe snorts and goes back to dicking around with Patrick's fly, the angle better bow that Patrick's leaning back. Patrick can't really think, brain shorting out at the feel of Pete's slick tongue flicking over his lips and Joe's fingers bumping against his dick and the burn of his thighs reminding him that he's straddling someone's _lap_ , what the hell.

Joe eases his zipper down tortuously slow and if Patrick weren't in the middle of kissing Pete right now, he'd probably tell him to hurry the fuck already, seriously. As it is, Pete has already managed to get his hand down the back of Patrick's pants and Patrick is trying to just think about the kissing so he doesn't totally freak out. And then Pete squeezes his ass and Patrick gasps -- really embarrassingly loudly -- but Pete just takes that as the go ahead to slide his tongue into Patrick's mouth.

And okay. It's kind of weird and a little scary, yeah, but Patrick can't actually complain. He kind of wishes he could stop making such stupid noises every time Pete gropes him, but other than that, it's all pretty awesome.

Joe finally, _finally_ , gets a hand inside Patrick's pants and when his fingers curl loosely around his dick, Patrick's hips jerk up.

"Fuck," he groans against Pete's mouth.

Pete laughs. He presses hot kisses along Patrick's jaw and nips at his earlobe.

"Just how much of a virgin _are_ you?"

Patrick resents that. His dick has been touched before, thank you. It's just. This is a lot of things at once and there are two hot guys and his reaction is _normal_.

Pete grins and leans in to bite at his lower lip. He says, "That's cool, we can totally get you past that whole thing."

And then Pete is moving away, and what? What part of the plan involves Pete not being there anymore.

Joe is doing some pretty great things inside Patrick's pants. They've messed around a few times, nothing really major, but Patrick knows how the rough patch on the inside of Joe's knuckle feels just right when it slides down his dick, and knows that if he tugs on Joe's balls it'll make him come almost instantly.

It's nice, this knowledge of each other.

And then there's Pete, still not touching him but not totally gone either. Patrick gathers up his brain functions an turns his head, and is instantly rewarded with the full view of a naked Pete Wentz.

"Oh," Patrick says, for lack of anything better to say.

Pete laughs and looks, well. Pleased.

"Jesus, Pete," Joe says, sounding somewhat annoyed. "At least shut the fucking door first."

But his hand has tightened around Patrick's dick and Patrick hears his breath hitch when he watches Pete walk over to the door, so he doesn't really think Joe minds all that much. It's kind of hard to deny that naked looks good on Pete.

"Have you seriously _still_ not gotten his pants off?" Pete asks as he walks back to the bed. "Dude, this is why you never get laid."

Joe pulls his hand out of Patrick's pants and flips Pete off. And well, Patrick's kind of bummed about that -- until he realizes that Joe's hands are now working to pull his jeans down and his boxers are going along with them. Patrick finds himself naked from the waist down, sprawled out on the bed in front of Joe, who turns to shoot a smug look at Pete before he leans in to kiss Patrick. Patrick's eyes flutter closed and when they open, Joe's hand is back on his dick and Pete's laughing as he kneels down next to Patrick.

"Nicely done," he says to Joe.

Joe rolls his eyes. "It's like you think I haven't been paying attention at all."

Pete slides a hand up the inside of Joe's thigh and squeezes his dick through his jeans. Joe groans. Pete laughs and turns back to Patrick.

"Hey," he grins wolfishly and leans down to kiss him. Patrick moans against his mouth, having totally given up on trying not to make stupid noises. Pete leans back a minute later, groans and says, "Your mouth really needs to be on my dick."

Patrick stills. He's never done that before. Though, that's probably fairly obvious to Pete by this point. But Patrick’s seen enough porn to have a vague idea of what to do, and to know that he wants to try it.

"Pete, don't -- " Joe starts to say.

"Okay," Patrick interrupts.

"Shit, that _worked_?" Pete's eyes are gleaming.

"If you're going to be a douche about I'll do Joe instead," Patrick says.

"No, man. No way. I've got first dibs now."

And, well, Patrick's brain is never going to get over this. Two dudes! Arguing over him! He's not really sure if he can believe it or not. Above him, Joe's bitching about being there first, and Pete's shaking his head and saying, "Nah man, that works for food and girlfriends, not blowjobs."

And Patrick kind of tunes them out. When he turns his head, Pete's dick is like. Right there, hard and thick and radiating warmth.  And okay, for as much as he's touched Joe's dick, he's never seen it up close and personal. Not like this. It's kind of intimidating, and kind of ridiculous, and also kind of hot, a slow burn in his belly, right under the place where Joe's hand is holding him down.

So, he's never actually gotten a blowjob, but he's watched an unhealthy amount of porn and had enough sticky hot wet dreams to last him through three puberties. It doesn't look that difficult. He can totally do it.

Pete stops talking when Patrick licks a slow line up the side of his dick. Which, woah, salty. But not entirely unpleasant. Kind of like sweat, like the way Joe's throat tastes after he's played a show. Patrick does it again, just to test, and yeah. Yeah, that's a good comparison.

"Looks like I win, Trohman," Pete says smugly.

Patrick flushes. He's not exactly a grand prize.

Joe keeps rubbing wide, easy circles over his stomach, which is nice and familiar and easy to hold onto. He mouths at the head of Pete's cock, the angle weird. The shaft is rubbing against his cheek, and it feels so inexplicably dirty to him.

"Yeah," Pete says softly. When Patrick looks up at him, his eyes are dark, biting down on his lip, teeth leaving white marks on his slick lip. It's. Hot. Really, really hot. "Put it in your mouth, kid. Come on."

Patrick takes a breath. He wraps a hand around the base, opens his mouth and leans in. He feels Pete's hand at the back of his head, pulling him forward and Patrick slowly slides his lips half way down.

Pete groans, "Yeah," when he pulls back and goes back down again, this time jerking his hand up to meet his mouth.

And sure, everyone always talks about how great it is to get head, but Patrick had no idea _giving_ it would be this hot. Patrick pulls off to catch his breath and looks up at Pete through his eyelashes. Pete's face is flushed, his eyes huge. And _fuck_ \-- Patrick is the reason for it.

"Why'd you stop?" Pete whines. "That was good."

Patrick's neck is already starting to hurt from the awkward angle. If he's going to do this, he may as well do it right.

"Can you maybe. Um," Patrick starts. Pete looks impatient. "The angle is kind of weird, do you think you could move..."

Pete doesn't waste any time before climbing onto the bed and sprawling out behind Patrick, his legs spread wide, his hard on flush against his stomach.

"It's all you," Pete says, leaning back on his elbows.

Patrick turns to Joe and gives him a small smile before he whispers, "Don't worry. You're next."

He crawls into the space between Pete's legs, situating himself before he takes Pete in his mouth again.

It's easier this way. Patrick sinks down as far as he can, Pete's hand at the back of his neck pressing just a little, and he's almost there, almost got all of it in his mouth, but it's too much, his eyes watering as he tries to keep going anyway. He chokes, has to pull back and cough.  
Pete's grinning, still cupping Patrick's head an keeping him close. It's embarrassing. Patrick wonders how many blowjobs Pete's gotten before. It makes him hot, makes him suddenly nervous. At least Joe's on level with him. Maybe he picked the wrong dick after all.

"You don't have to pull out all the tricks," Pete says, guiding him closer again. He shifts his hips up, presses Patrick's mouth to the base of his dick. "Just don't stop."

Patrick nods, licks at the places he can reach, Pete keeping him still.

Behind him, Joe's hand sneaks up under his shirt. And, woah. He's pantless. How did he forget about that? Patrick squirms. Joe's mouth trails over the small of his back, slick and open. It's good, makes shivers slide up Patrick's spine.

Pete finally lets him up, and Patrick pulls back long enough to catch his breath before wrapping his lips around the head of Pete's cock and sucking. Pete groans above him, and Patrick thinks he can feel the vibrations all the way in his own chest.

Joe slides one finger down Patrick's spine, down, down, down, until he's splitting Patrick's ass apart, fingertip resting on his hole. Patrick whines. It's weird and good and, Jesus, he's so turned on he can't see straight.

"Can I finger you?" Joe asks, and Patrick chokes on Pete's dick again.

"Fuck," Pete shouts as Patrick pulls off again. He's still wincing when Patrick glances up at him. Just when Patrick thought he couldn't embarrass himself any further. "Jesus, Joe, you couldn't have asked him that _before_ he put his mouth back on my dick?"

"You wanted to go first," Joe says matter of factly.

Pete glares and Patrick wishes he could disappear.

"Sorry," he mumbles.

Pete's face softens when he looks back at him.

"Hey, no, it's okay," Pete says. "I've survived way worse than just a knick of teeth."

Patrick gives him a half smile and feels a little bit better. Less like a total failure.

"So was that a yes or a no?" Joe asks. His finger is rubbing more insistently now and fuck, it feels good.

"Yes," he nods.

"Awesome," Joe says.

Patrick feels Joe spreading him open, hears him spit and a second later feels his slick finger slowly pushing inside. Patrick lets his head fall down. Rests against the juncture of Pete's hip and thigh and buries his groan in Pete's skin.

Pete's fingers card through his hair and when Patrick looks up, they come around and curl along side his face.

"Okay?" Pete asks. Patrick nods. He's more mindful of his teeth when he goes back down. He picks up a steady pace, bobbing his head and Pete's fingers tighten around his shoulder.

Joe is going kind of tortuously slow. It feels weird, probably not slick enough and a little pinchy, but there's a trail of something good waiting. He's just got to be patient.

Pete's watching him, stroking his cheek and pushing his hips up in the smallest little jerks ever. When Patrick pulls off to soothe his aching jaw, he takes an experimental lick at Pete's balls and is rewarded with what is possibly the hottest sound he's ever heard.

"You," Pete says, voice low and thick, "need to go down on me more often."

Patrick fights the automatic urge to blush like a thirteen year old girl and does it again, traces the seam with the tip of his tongue and watches Pete's eyes slip closed.

He hisses when Joe tries to move his finger. Too dry, kind of hurts. There's a pause, and then there's wet directly on his hole and --

"Did you just spit on me?" Patrick asks, incredulous.

"Yes," Joe answers. When Patrick throws a dirty look over his shoulder, Joe shrugs. "It's not gonna wet itself."

Death would be nice, Patrick decides. Mortification is a moot point when one is dead.

"Dick, your mouth," Pete whines. And, okay, Patrick can do that. He's. Not focusing on the way Joe's finger slips way easier into him, or the way the friction feels kind of good now. "Actually, hold that thought."

Pete presses Patrick's head down into his crotch anyway, and Patrick's about to ask what the hold up is when Joe brushes against something that makes him moan low and loud against the crease of Pete's thigh.

"Good call," Joe comments, rubbing at that spot until Patrick's legs threaten to give out.

"Nnnng," Patrick mutters unintelligibly.

"Hey," Joe says again, and why is he talking so much? Sex is not social time. "Can we, like, fuck you?'

"Nnnng."

“...is that a yes?” Joe asks.

“Um,” he says.

He wants to say yes. Kind of a lot. Because if it’s anything like what’s going on now, then hell yes does he want more. But he should probably think about this for at least a few seconds. Except that Joe hasn’t stopped moving his finger and it’s making it thinking kind of difficult.

When Pete stopped him after band practice last week and said, “Andy can’t make it to the show next week, you know the songs, right?” Patrick expected to have a good time with some friends and maybe show off a little bit. (He’s still holding out hope that they might let him drum for this side project thing.) He did not expect that by the end of the night he would be contemplating losing his virginity.

Joe crooks his finger, presses up on that spot hard and Patrick can feel it all the way up and down his spine.

“Oh _fuck_.”

“Joe, stop,” Pete says. “You’re gonna make him come.”

Joe stops and Patrick wants to cry. He thought making him come was the entire _point_. Why is Joe stopping?

“No,” Patrick whines as Joe eases his finger out. “Don’t stop.”

Pete laughs.

“Trust me on this,” he says. “You can go back to sucking me now.”

Patrick lifts his head and glares at Pete. Easy for him to say, he’s not the one being denied an orgasm.

“I’m waiting,” Pete says. Patrick huffs.

He takes Pete in hand and runs his tongue over the head, light teasing licks, just under the ridge, the way he’s seen it done in porn. Pete makes _noises_. Patrick feels very smug as he sucks Pete back into his mouth and bobs his head as fast as he can manage without.

“So are we fucking him or not?” Joe asks a minute later.

“Not,” Pete gasps. Patrick tries not to be disappointed.

“What? Why not?” Apparently Joe is disappointed too.

“Dude. Even _I’m_ not enough of an asshole to fuck a virgin with out lube.”

Patrick winces, but keeps his mouth shut. Er. Wrapped silently around Pete's dick. Joe moves his finger again, and Patrick's cock jumps. He pulls off, ignores the whine Pete aims at him, and says, "I can take it. Really."

Joe's still in his jeans. It's something Patrick hadn't noticed before, but when he shifts, he can feel the hard line of Joe's dick against the back of his thigh, pressing the zipper of his pants into Patrick's skin. That. Is strangely a turn on and also makes him cringe in sympathy. That can't be comfortable. If Pete would just give the go ahead with the fucking, they'd all be a lot happier.  
He's going to lose his virginity in a threesome. If he would have known in the morning, he'd have brought a camera.

"No," Pete says, "you really, really can't." He lifts up, moves away again, and wow. That's disappointing. Patrick hangs his head and tries not to show it. "Hey, hey. Don't be like that."

Pete kisses him, and it's nice, slow and deep and thorough. Joe presses into him deep, and Patrick moans into Pete's mouth. The way Pete's lips feel against his as they wind into a grin is incredible.

"Yo, Troh, your turn." Pete kisses him again, a quick peck, and then Joe's pulling away from him and scrambling to the head of the bed.

"Hey," he says brightly.

Patrick turns around and knee-walks towards him.

"Hey." Patrick smiles at him.

He tentatively reaches out and undoes the button on Joe's jeans, pulls down his zipper and leans in to kiss him. For a moment it's almost like Pete never interrupted them at all.

Behind them, Pete sighs impatiently.

Patrick sits back on his heels and starts to pull Joe's jeans down. Joe lifts his hips to help at the same moment Patrick gives a particularly forceful yank and well. Patrick is just glad Pete's sitting behind him. Falling off the bed might have actually caused him to die of embarrassment.

Pete's laughing as he kisses Patrick's neck. He takes Joe's jeans out of Patrick's hands and drops them off the side of the bed.

"Go on," he says. "Show him what you got."

Patrick leans back down. He tries to ignore the flush in his cheeks as he pulls Joe's boxers down just far enough to get his dick out.

He places one hand flat against Joe's stomach and licks his palm before he wraps the other around Joe's dick. He strokes him a couple times and bends to wrap his lips around the head.

When Patrick goes down a little further, Joe's hips come up off the bed. Patrick has to struggle to push him back down at the same time keeping his rhythm with his mouth. He manages though, and feels kind of proud of himself. He wonders if he's Joe's first – he'd kind of like that.

Patrick's jaw aches. Joe isn't as thick as Pete, but he's longer, doesn't fit quite as well. Its a sweet burn though, makes a rush of adrenaline shoot up his spine. Joe's running his fingers through Patrick's hair, not tugging, just combing through, arms tight. A salty burst of precome hits Patrick's tongue, and he hums at the taste.

"Look at him," Pete says, leaning in to whisper in Patrick's ear. He's pressed flush to Patrick's back, hard on against the cleft of Patrick's ass, thighs pressed to Patrick's. He bites at the tender junction of Patrick's neck, and it takes a lot of effort not to mimic him and ruin Joe for life. "You going to let him come in your mouth? Gonna swallow like a good boy?"

Patrick's torn between wanting to punch him and wanting to come without being touched. He's so hard it hurts, his dick throbbing between his legs. If no one touches him soon, he might cry. Not that this -- Joe's cock in his mouth, Pete humping against him slowly -- isn't great, but. Man, that handjob felt great too.

"Watch him," Pete says, hot against Patrick's cheek. "Sit up, fucker." Joe groans, but does as he's told.

Joe's boxers are keeping his thighs pinned together, and the new angle makes Patrick's nose bump against his stomach, makes it harder to suck him off. Pete leans in, the heat from his skin bleeding through Patrick's shirt. He slips two fingers into Joe's mouth, and oh. Patrick can deal with this.

Pete fucks Joe's mouth with his fingers, and Joe moans around them. Patrick has to pull off to watch. He can see Joe's tongue slide against them, can see it split them apart, and his dick aches. He wants to feel that. Oh, god, he wants to feel that.

"Suck him off, Patrick," Pete says, slipping his fingers free. He licks a slow, hot line up Patrick's throat and adds, "I want to see him get off on you."

"Nnnnng."

Joe flops back onto the mattress, and Patrick does as he's told.

Pete peels himself away, and Patrick misses his warmth almost immediately. He groans around the head of Joe's dick when Pete presses a finger into him, faster than Joe had. He arches into it, back bowing. There's the slowly familiar sound of someone spitting- gross, gross, he's going to take the longest shower ever later- and then a second finger is pressing in against the first.  
Oh, oh. Oh, wow. It burns, but it's like the burn in his jaw, so, so good. He rocks into it, and he knows that he's probably giving the worst head ever but Pete's rubbing him just right, talking filth that's totally blowing Patrick's mind.

Pete fits his free hand between Patrick's thighs and spreads them apart just a little. Patrick wants to ask what he's doing, but then Pete's pressing his cock into the gap, right up under Patrick's balls. Fucking a. Patrick clamps his thighs shut and Pete groans sweet and low.

It's sensation overload. Joe's twitching under his hands, dick fucking throbbing against Patrick's tongue, and Pete's play fucking him, the rub of his cock against Patrick's so good but not nearly enough. Every time he thrusts his hips, he shoves his fingers in, and oh god. Patrick's going to buy so much lube. He's going to make sure he's ready for next time.

Pete slaps his ass, the sting making him jump, and says, "When I fuck you for real? I'm gonna make you see stars."

Oh, god.

"Patrick," Joe pants, "Patrick. I'm – I'm gonna – "

Patrick starts to pull off, thankful for the warning. And then there's Pete's free hand, sliding around the back of his neck. He's not pushing him down with a lot of force, just an even pressure. Patrick could still probably pull off if he wanted to. He goes back down and hums around Joe's cock.

Joe's shout is muffled when he comes, like he has his hand covering his mouth. Patrick's not really paying attention to where Joe's hands are at the moment. He's more concerned with the salty bitterness filling his mouth and trying not to choke before he gets his mouth off of Joe's dick. Pete's hand slides down between Patrick's shoulder blades, rubbing lightly, and Patrick lifts his head.

He doesn't really want to be the kind of boy who swallows, to be perfectly honest. But there isn't actually any where for him to spit and he's not about to just spit on the bed. He still has _manners_ after all, even if he is getting off in a stranger's house.

It isn't exactly the most pleasant experience in the world. But then Pete's mouth is hot and wet and sucking on his earlobe. It's slightly more bearable then.

Even more so when Pete whispers, "Good boy," his voice low and rough.

He pulls his fingers out and wraps them tight around Patrick's cock. He jerks Patrick off roughly. It's too tight and too erratic, off kilter with the rhythm of his hips, but somehow it’s enough. It's finally enough for Patrick to get off.

"You gonna come for me?" Pete asks, mouthing the words against Patrick's neck.

"Oh god," Patrick groans. " _Yes_."

Pete's hips slam against him hard and Patrick comes messily all over Pete's hand. Pete strokes him until he's soft and Patrick collapses face first on top of Joe. He blinks several times. From where he's resting his head on Joe's hip, he's in direct eye line with Joe's dick. It's a little ridiculous to think he had it in his mouth only a short time ago. Patrick can't help it when he starts laughing. He turns his head and laughs into Joe's skin. He presses kisses to Joe's hipbone and feels Joe's fingers running through his hair a few seconds later.

Behind him, he can hear Pete groaning and the slick sound of his hand moving over his dick. His fingers tighten around Patrick's hip and Patrick turns around just in time to see Pete coming all over his ass and the backs of his thighs.

Patrick grimaces.

"Gross."

"Could've been on your face," Pete says, a minute later, once he's caught his breath. He reaches up to ruffle Patrick's hair, hops off the bed, and starts collecting his clothes.

Now that it's over, Patrick feels messy and young and ridiculous. He doesn't know where his boxers are, and even if he did, Joe's half laying on his arm, keeping him trapped, bare, sticky ass still in the air. He hears Pete's zipper sliding up and cringes.

"Pants," he says, tugging at his arm. Joe is already snoring, limp and useless. Patrick shoves him. He's not angry, but he's kind of annoyed that he's the one left to deal with things.

When his arm's free, Patrick reaches for the edge of the sheet and pulls it over his lap. Pete looks. Well. Freshly laid, hair missed and lips pink and shirt on haphazardly. He's watching Patrick steadily, head cocked. It's unnerving. Patrick squirms.

His pants are on the floor at Pete's feet. Patrick points at them quietly, but Pete shakes his head. He crooks a finger, and what the fuck. Patrick's not going to start, like, obeying him or whatever. There's a moment where they're both just watching each other, Joe's snoring softly in the background, and then Patrick's ruefully letting the sheet go and climbing off the bed.

"Hey," Pete says. He grabs Patrick's wrist and pulls him forward. Patrick stumbles over the puddle of his jeans and smacks right into Pete's chest. His soft dick is up against the fly of Pete's jeans, and it's uncomfortable, but he can't make himself move.

"Hey," he says back, weakly. He really, really wants his pants.

Pete leans in and kisses him, soft and deep and blindingly good. Patrick's knees feel weak, his libido perking right back up. Pete grins against his mouth and says, "Just so you know, you're the best virgin I've ever had."

He slaps Patrick's ass with an open palm and steps back. Patrick flushes, and he's not sure of it's with anger or a fucked up sense of pride. He watches Pete go, shutting the door behind him and then goes back to the bed.

He curls up next to Joe, pantsless and small and sleepy, and doesn't think about what any of it means.


End file.
